By Davalynn Spencer
A close friend of mine is having chicken and dumplings for Thanksgiving dinner this year because that’s what her grandson requested.
Works for me.
Typically, it’s hard to imagine the big Thanksgiving spread without a turkey in the middle of the table surrounded by all the fixin’s such as that depicted in Norman Rockwell’s famous painting from the 1940s, Freedom from Want.
|Freedom from Want by Norman Rockwell - Public domain|
via the National Archives and Records Administration
|Quail on my home front huddling beneath a Colorado blue spruce.|
And let’s not forget baked beans, vinegar pie, and the West’s constant standby of fresh biscuits and stout coffee.
Kansas City hotels in the late 1880s reportedly offered oysters, elk, squirrel, opossum, shrimp, and other delectables. I’d probably be late for supper if squirrel was on the menu.
From as early as 1621, people in what became the United States of America celebrated a fall harvest festival during which they thanked God for protection and provision, sharing their feast with neighbors and friends.
|The First Thanksgiving at Plymouth, by Jennie August Brownscombe. |
This 1925 painting corrected her 1914 depiction of Plains Indians rather than tribes common
to the Plymouth area. Public domain via the National Museum of Women in the Arts.
It has long been touted that early American Benjamin Franklin believed the common turkey to be more honorable than the bald eagle when decisions were being made about the national bird. Much of the tale is hearsay, though in retrospect, it’s hard to imagine the humble turkey replacing the majestically depicted bald eagle.
It’s also hard to imagine a featherless eagle centerpiece on my Thanksgiving table.
However, I have heard of people fending off angry gobblers that had other ideas about what should be served for supper.
What’s on your menu this year? Comment below to have your name tossed in the drawing for an e-copy of my Thanksgiving tale, Mail-order Misfire. And have a blessed and thanks-filled Thanksgiving, whether you celebrate singularly or in the company of others.